


Foam

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Merpeople, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin enjoys his lover by the water’s edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foam

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for adventuruouskitten’s “a small smut scene between Bilbo/Dwalin [...] Dwalin having a sort of chub kink” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/). (I felt like I’d done this before so made Bilbo a merperson to keep myself interested.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When he was first in Erebor, sightings were very rare. The people of the lake—below, not on—kept very much to themselves. The people of Dale used to tell stories about them, depicting long, lithe maidens with long, flowing hair and twisting, scaled tails, singing piercing ballads that would lure sailors to their death. But those Dwalin finds in the mountain are different.

He finds one in particular with short, honey-coloured hair that fluffs into curls when it’s out of the water too long, and big bright eyes that seem to change colour in the light. He’s a small thing, smaller than Dwalin by at least a full head, though he’s hardly the thin Elvin creature that’s been described in legends: Bilbo is all plump, pink-brown flesh from the fish-tail up, his belly pleasantly round and his arms thick and soft: isolation to survive the winter. It also pads him when he flops onto the jagged rocks amidst Erebor, where the Running River is born beneath the mountain. 

Today, he’s only hiked himself up on his chubby elbows, the rest of him still below the surface, green-blue tail flicking as he hums. He’s tucked between Dwalin’s thick legs, trousers rolled up to let the ice water lick at his bare skin. Bilbo’s mouth is hot around him, first at his head and then slipping down his shaft, burying in the dark curls at his base and pausing to suckle. Bilbo tilts his head, trying to burrow deeper, closer, take more of Dwalin’s thick cock down his throat, but it’s as far as it can go. The vibrations of Bilbo’s muffled humming makes Dwalin want to tremble, but he stays strong, stoic. He still doesn’t know what he’s done to tempt such an enthralling creature out of the depths, but he doesn’t want to ruin it now by appearing anything less than worthy. Bilbo likes to call him, _my brave warrior_ , and things like that, admiring his taut muscles and the armour he wears that glitter like scales. Bilbo is the only one of his kind that ever comes up long enough to talk, and though he likes to hear stories of the world and especially poems and songs, he does mention often that doing this ostracizes him—he’s hardly a _proper hobbit_ , as he calls himself. Dwalin always says _you have a place with dwarves._

But then, if Bilbo met the others, surely he’d find someone more worthy, like one of the princes or Thorin himself. And as much as Dwalin loves them, he’s too selfish to share this special secret. He melts his gruff exterior to tell Bilbo whatever he might ask, spreading legs and discarding clothes for new experiences. 

Bilbo’s done this before, but it’s perfect every time. He worships Dwalin’s cock like he’s never tasted anything so sweet, and when he looks up at Dwalin through half-lidded eyes and dilated irises and flushed cheeks full of cock, Dwalin groans and has to bite his lip to keep from coming. Bilbo takes a great suck that makes Dwalin _squirm_ , and then he slides down to the tip again, his tongue lifting to flay across the slit at the top, thick fingers wrapping warmly around his foreskin. Dwalin gives in and finally reaches down. He grabs a chunk of hair behind Bilbo’s cutely pointed ear, and he grunts under his breath, “You keep that up, lad, and I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.”

Bilbo nuzzles into the shaft all the same, nosing against the underside and purring casually, “Could you carry me, you think? If I wanted to see the mountain?”

If Dwalin weren’t busy being wildly horny, he’d be surprised. It would be an interesting journey, to say the least, and an odd one to bring up during this, but Bilbo’s all odd, even if he thinks that Dwalin is the strange one. Dwalin just nods his head, trying to be coherent and grunting, “Aye, ‘could carry you anywhere you wish.”

“Do dwarves have doilies?” Bilbo asks curiously. As soon as he’s finished, he presses his tongue flat against Dwalin’s heavy balls, then laves languidly up to the head again, lapping away at the single bead of precum that’s formed. Dwalin groans, searching for the words.

He just barely manages to pant, “What’s a doily?”

Bilbo makes a disappointed face, but he takes Dwalin in his mouth again before Dwalin can apologize. He impales Bilbo in one swift, fluid motion, clinging tight to Bilbo’s hair and trying to resist pushing the poor fellow in. He lets Bilbo set the place. Bilbo is a somewhat slow thing, often fussy and persnickety and rhythmic and overall too delicate for the wild romps Dwalin used to be accustomed too. He’ll adapt for Bilbo. He’ll give up the joy of fucking a partner hard into his bed for the chance to rock with Bilbo against the water’s edge, the river splashing between them as Bilbo’s fat body slaps against his solid muscles. Bilbo swallows hotly around him, always driving him so close to the precipice of _pleasure_. 

It’s Bilbo’s eyes that do it, though. Bilbo’s mouth is a gift, his tongue a delectable treat, but it’s his cute little eyes hazily looking up with such _fondness_ , perhaps the beginnings of _love_ , that Dwalin finds himself overwhelmed. He cries out, the sound ricocheting off the cavern walls and skipping over the translucent surface, while Bilbo sucks all the harder at his cock. He bursts against the back of Bilbo’s throat, and Bilbo mewls in delight, halting his song to drink down Dwalin’s seed. He slurps hungrily away at it the more it comes, skillfully swallowing it all. He never gags or chokes. He leans as much forward over the bank as he can, his hands splaying over Dwalin’s chiseled stomach, and he sucks it all down.

When it’s done, Dwalin’s nearly trembling. Spent and sweaty, he slumps forward, the hand in Bilbo’s hair now caressing it. Bilbo stays on for a moment or two, then slips slickly off, his own spit following him and coating Dwalin’s dick. 

Then Bilbo lunges up. It gives a great splash, and he lands against Dwalin’s front, with such momentum that it knocks Dwalin right over. He hits the ground behind himself with an uncomfortable, “ _Oomph_ ,” Bilbo landing right atop him. 

Heavy and wet and very warm, Bilbo squirms on Dwalin’s chest. He’s bare everywhere, his dusty nipples glistening with water and digging into Dwalin’s tunic as he writhes, his tail slithering over Dwalin’s thighs. His stout arms wrap around Dwalin’s neck, his plump cheek rubbing contentedly at the scruff of Dwalin’s beard. 

“Do you eat pipe-weed on land?” Bilbo asks, his voice no hoarser for having swallowed Dwalin’s cum. “And are you really one of your king’s honour-guard?”

Dizzy, Dwalin sighs, “We don’t eat it, no, and yes, I am. But you’ll have to give me a minute if you want anymore.”

“Have all the minutes you like,” Bilbo sighs. He’s stopped squirming, now settled, the water dripping off him and slowly permeating Dwalin’s clothes. “I want to practice being on land for a while.”

“You’re not on land,” Dwalin grunts. “You’re on a dwarf.”

Bilbo laughs. But he doesn’t climb off his lover. He just basks in the dark, candle-lit chamber of Erebor, at the birthplace of his river and the base of Dwalin’s mountain. Dwalin means to take him up for supper later, since he knows how many meals Bilbo’s people are prone to.

But then Bilbo’s smooth scales against him make him hard again, and he winds up rolling Bilbo sideways for a kiss, his warrior’s stamina kicking in for round two.


End file.
